


Chocolate Chip Cheesecake

by TheVineSpeaketh



Series: Feels for a Friend [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sexual Confusion, Tony Has Issues, Unresolved Romantic Tension, What Was I Thinking?, slightly crack-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVineSpeaketh/pseuds/TheVineSpeaketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m just having an epiphany about my sexuality, is all.”</p><p>Steve raised his eyebrows, but he wasn’t an idiot. He looked quickly at the door to the kitchen before looking back at Tony, leaning forward and whispering, “really?” At Tony’s nod, he asked, “Is it because of Loki?”</p><p>Tony shook his head. Then, he looked up and shrugged. “Well, he’s part of it,” he said, remembering clearly that this whole thing actually started with Thor. “The other half is probably trying to help Loki in the kitchen with something.”</p><p>Iron Thunder and Frostiron and Iron Captain. Whew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Chip Cheesecake

**Author's Note:**

> What did I just write...?
> 
> I have no idea. I hope you like it anyway.

The rain fell down in sheets the day that Steve had convinced Tony to go to his favorite café.

Tony didn’t fancy cafés first and foremost, so of course he was apprehensive about being dragged to one. Cafés were where hipsters and ‘artists’ hung out. But having not actually driven his own car to school and being unaccustomed to literally any form of public transportation, he wasn’t going to ride a bus, and the only reason that he wasn’t home at that moment was because Howard reneged on his deal with Tony and refused to pick him up. Or, well, according to Howard he had something else come up and he couldn’t, but Tony knew that it was just a reluctance to actually spend time with him rather than something better coming up.

Tony didn’t tell that to Steve, of course, but as he stared out the glass door of the school, Steve shouldering his backpack and about to press out, he had a feeling Steve could tell when he asked where his ride was.

“You could always come with me,” Steve said, a look on his face that was almost sympathetic.

Tony quirked a brow. He hadn’t ever given any thought about where Steve went after school. He had always just kind of tuned everyone out after the school day ended, with the exception of perhaps Bruce Banner, his number one go-to science bro. Maybe this was worth peeking into, though. “Where are you headed?” he asked.

“A café just down the road,” Steve replied, adjusting the strap on his backpack absent-mindedly. Tony pulled a face, and Steve’s natural happy glow faded slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Cafés are for people who don’t have a good coffee maker at home,” he replied, peering outside once more.

“Well, I know the owner,” he replied, pulling his hood up and beginning to push on the door. “He lets me hang there after school hours until my grandfather gets home. So if you want to come, by all means, come along. They won’t let you stay in the school, so you’d better find somewhere else to go.” He pushed the door open and gave one last smile to Tony. “Good luck,” he said, and pushed out into the rain, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Tony’s eyes widened. They wouldn’t let him hang out in the school? He turned around, jumping slightly at the sight of a janitor whose hands were on a mop, his body posture plainly stating, “nope, there ain’t no way we’re letting you stay here.” Tony stared at him for a moment, and then turned and pushed out the door.

And that’s how, after a five minute walk, Tony found himself shrugging off his coat inside a cozy café that was surprisingly empty for the dreary fall afternoon it was. As the bell attached to the door dinged quietly behind him, Tony mused that it was probably this empty because people were making their own coffees or hot chocolates at home, not wanting to brave the rain.

Steve put his bag down on the nearest chair, beginning to shrug off his hoodie, when a big man suddenly appeared from the back, pushing open the door and peering out at them. His eyes widened suddenly with recognition, and he moved forward quickly, hopping over the counter—much to Tony’s distress and awe—and began pulling at Steve’s hoodie almost ravenously. Tony didn’t know whether or not to go to Steve’s aid, being unable to read Steve’s body language with the man towering over him. Tony couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked at the built figure with arms covered in flour and an apron on over his black shirt and blue jeans, blonde hair pulled back into a small ponytail and facial hair full enough to make Tony jealously scrape over his own meager mustache.

“Ah, Thor!” Steve called from inside the hoodie, his hands getting stuck on the ends, and his head popped out, his hair slightly in disarray from the rough treatment, but there was a pleasant flush to his cheeks and a smile on his face.

“My friend Steve,” Thor replied, a bright grin of his own stretching over his face. “We must get you out of these wet clothes. Had I known that you were to be coming today I would not have allowed you to walk.” He continued pulling on the hoodie until it finally freed Steve’s arms and tucked it inside-out absently, flour sticking to it in places.

“It’s only a five minute walk, Thor,” Steve replied, straightening his long-sleeved shirt and grinning at him. “We could handle it, couldn’t we, Tony?” Here, he flashed him a brilliant smile, and the big blonde—Thor, was it?—suddenly took notice of him. To Tony’s surprise, though, the man’s smile merely grew wider, and Tony was suddenly flooded with envy that this man could be both intimidating and adorable at the same time. He was like a bear. A big, huge, blonde bear. Why the fuck was everyone taller than Tony? He made a mental note to curse Howard and his stupid genetic letdowns later.

It took him a second to remember that Steve was waiting for a response. “Ah, yeah,” he said distractedly, switching his cold lump of a coat from one arm to the other, mourning over the newfound wetness of his shirt sleeve. “Yeah, it was no problem.”

“Here,” Thor said, extending a _freaking humongous_ arm toward Tony, beckoning for his coat. “Allow me to take your coat. I will dry it over the stove in the back room. It will get plenty warm in here when Loki finishes the croissants.” Tony handed the coat over in a daze, unable to reconcile how this man could possibly exist in such an ugly world.

“Ah, Loki’s here?” Steve said, instantly going for his bag and unzipping it, feverishly looking for something. After a few moments’ worth of searching, he pulled out a thick tome that was probably encased in human flesh or something of the sort and extended it to Thor. “Good. I wanted to return his book to him. It was really helpful.”

Thor stared at the book a moment before smiling. “I’m sure he will be glad to hear it. May I offer you a seat? You both must be freezing. I’ll make cocoas, shall I? Or does, erm…” Here he looked to Tony, a sheepish look on his handsome face. “Tony, was it?”

“Yeah, Tony,” he said quietly. For once, he felt it best to observe. It wasn’t often he found himself a stranger or a spectator in someone else’s familiar world.

“Tony,” Thor said, as if tasting the way it flowed off his tongue, and it really wasn’t fair that this guy could be—but then Tony stopped himself in his train of thought because he realized that mentally bitching about this guy’s perfection was just getting to be a little too much for him right now.

Thor smiled again. “Well, do you prefer anything over cocoa? I am fairly good with cocoas, but Loki brews the best of caffeinated beverages, and makes the best pastries I have ever had the pleasure of tasting.” Expounding virtues over this Loki, was he? Tony had a sneaking suspicion that this Thor was pretty cozy with his fellow employee.

“No, cocoa’s fine,” he replied, and Thor nodded, showing them to a few seats farther away from the door yet closer to a relatively warm radiator. As Tony sat down, he could slowly feel the circulation returning to his freezing toes. Tony swept a quick gaze across the place and grudgingly agreed that it wasn’t too bad, for a goddamned café.

Steve settled in, scooting his bag close to his feet and smiling up at Thor. “Do what you have to, Thor,” Steve said kindly, clearly at ease with where he was. “Don’t let us keep you.”

“Very well,” Thor replied, clapping a companionable hand on Steve’s shoulder before rounding the counter a little more slowly this time and pushing his way through the door. Tony watched him go before turning to Steve again, who was fishing through his bag.

“So,” Tony said, and Steve looked up, a shocked look on his face, as if he wasn’t expecting Tony to actually speak. “You come here often.”

“Yeah, pretty often,” he replied, going back to digging through his bag. “Thor and I are pretty good friends.” He grabbed something in his bag and looked up, his gaze apologetic. Tony took one look at his face and grew queasy, realizing suddenly that Steve probably had another hell-spawned tome from that Loki guy and this was the part where he sacrificed him to some unholy demon—

“I was wondering if you could help me with my chemistry homework,” he murmured shyly, pulling the chemistry textbook from where it was hiding under the table. “If you don’t mind,” he added quietly, a small smile on his face.

Oh. Well. Chemistry he could handle. “Yeah, no problem,” he said, fishing through his own bag for his own textbook. “Don’t want to be useless when I’m piggybacking on your kindness, now do I?”

“You’re not piggybacking,” Steve said, but nevertheless accepted the help. The minute Tony split open the textbook he entered his analytical state, explaining just how combinations and permutations could be applied directly to the atoms of two different elements. Steve seemed to take it in pretty quickly, having only a few little bumps of misunderstanding to smooth out, and together he and Tony left sketches of atoms and particles on random blips of paper scattered all over the table. Tony noted with a little hint of jealousy (which at this point was becoming a staple of his café experience) that Steve sketched rather gracefully, taking notes of both his element sketches and the little doodles and marginalia he put on the sides of almost every page of his notebook. Tony could easily draw something mechanical, could easily scale something with his mind’s eye and be able to build it down to the centimeter, but he couldn’t for the life of him draw that fantastic caricature of Principal Fury that lingered on the side of his notebook.

“That’s pretty good,” Tony remarked quite out of the blue, and Steve looked up from where he was concentrating on calculating half-lives, his brow furrowed in confusion. He followed the end of Tony’s pointed pen to the drawing, and suddenly turned a light shade of pink.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he muttered embarrassedly, quickly flipping his notebook shut. “I can’t focus sometimes, so I kind of… doodle.”

“No wonder you don’t know a thing about chemistry,” Tony replied, but it was void of any malice, and made Steve smile. “No, but seriously. That’s good. You in the school’s art program or what?”

“For my stuff? No way,” he said, packing up his things once more and slowly putting them back in his bag. He gathered all the scraps of paper he’d touched and put them gently into his folder, as if savoring them. “I’m not **that** talented.”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, his voice carrying his uncertainty, and he too piled his things away, except it was a slightly messier process than Steve’s was. “That looked pretty talented to me.”

Steve stared into his backpack for a moment before setting his brow and pulling up a black book bound with a thin band. “Well,” he said, his voice unsure, “would you mind looking at these, then? I just need a non-partial eye to look at these and tell me if they’re any good. Word on the street is that you can be pretty asinine when you want to be. It might be good for me.”

“Asinine?” Tony asked as Steve placed the book on the table, facing in a direction from which they could both see the pages alright. “I **put** the ‘ass’ in ‘asinine’, Rogers. Now open the damn sketchbook.” Steve just laughed but acquiesced, and suddenly, as the cover turned, Tony was privy to the most wonderful array of mind-vomit he’d ever seen.

There were monkeys in suits juggling on unicycles, an entire well-dressed menagerie on one set of pages. But then Steve turned the page and there were sketches of profiles, outlines of familiar faces, some of whom he could actually recognize. There was one with a squared chin and a strong nose, with a lock of floppy brown hair falling onto his forehead that Tony could clearly see was James Barnes, Steve’s greatest friend. There was another that was slightly similar except the familiar bush of facial hair and a braid scaling just below his neck, and that one was obviously Thor. There was a third that turned out to be the strong face of the beautiful Peggy Carter, drawn with such obvious care that Tony had no doubt that he absolutely adored her.

Tony scaled through the faces, recognizing Rhodey’s distinct profile and Natasha’s beautiful silhouette, until finally he noticed one that was almost too familiar. He looked up at Steve, nearly giving himself whiplash. He pointed at the paper, his finger hovering over the graphite so as not to smudge it. “That’s me,” he said, his voice empty with the shock. Steve nodded, slightly embarrassed, but Tony just looked back down. He could follow every curve of his nose, the sharp point of his chin, the set of his hair. “That’s amazing. I could recognize it was me, and you don’t even have facial features or anything.”

“You don’t think it’s creepy that I sketched you?” Steve asked, and Tony waved his hand dismissively.

“I think that the only way for artists to learn is if they sketch the unknown as often as possible,” Tony replied, gazing onto the page.

“That’s oddly poetic, Tony,” Steve said, his voice slightly softer. Tony looked up again, giving him a wry smile. “It sounds like it’s coming from experience.”

Here, he frowned. “If you’re saying I’m an artist, you’re pretty far off the mark there, Rogers,” he replied, his voice once again regaining its harsh edge. “All I do is sketch machines and blueprints. That isn’t art.”

“It is if you enjoy it,” Steve replied, closing his book. “You’ve got to have a sketchbook on you. I want to see.”

Tony groaned but grudgingly pulled out his own sketchbook, which was a small green moleskin with a little green band, and opened it. Pinning it to the table with his forefinger and thumb, he stared at the first page, observing the familiar image drawn on it. With precision and calculations written on the sides, he recognized the blueprint of a small mechanical invention that resembled a robotic arm, the result of which probably sat forlorn at home, wondering why he hadn’t come back yet.

“This is brilliant,” Steve said, and Tony looked up to see him smiling genially. “You really shouldn’t say you’re not an artist. This is beautiful.”

“Please,” Tony huffed, shutting the book with more force than necessary and stuffing it into his back pocket, adjusting the way he was sitting as he did so. “They’re just me getting the ideas down before they disappear.”

“Still,” Steve said, his smile growing a bit. “You really shouldn’t hide it.”

“Steven.”

Tony jumped in surprise at the voice, not knowing how he hadn’t noticed the man standing next to their table. Steve, meanwhile, gave the man an even wider smile, and Tony, having sorted out his little freak-out, turned to the man himself.

And there was no way that this man could be a simple baker. There was no way. Carrying two ceramic mugs in his hands, his elegant fingers curled around the handles, he stood next to their table, an elegant figure. Clad in black slacks and dark shoes and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the crook of his elbows, his hair was tied behind his head in a small ponytail. His features were aristocratic and reminiscent of those of a mythical fae being, and he was fixing Steve with a small smile and an intent gaze from his deep green eyes.

“Loki,” Steve said quietly, his voice tempering itself to match the atmosphere that Loki carried with him. If this was Loki, Tony thought, gazing at the man with visible awe written on his features, then he couldn’t blame Thor a wink for extolling his virtues. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t think you’d be working today.”

“Thor no doubt told you of my presence here when you walked in the door,” Loki said, though not unkindly, setting the two mugs in front of them. Tony wrapped his still-cool hands around his own and pulled it closer to him, content to simply warm up and watch their interaction. “He returned my book to me in the back, as well as hung your coats above the stove. I wanted to personally thank you for keeping it in such good condition. It hardly seems as if you had it.”

“I had sure hoped it would’ve turned out that way,” Steve said, pulling his own mug to him, his eyes never leaving Loki’s. “I thought I had surely done something awful to it in the two years I had it.”

Tony turned a shocked gaze to Steve. “You borrowed a book for two fuckin’ years?” he asked before he could stop himself. “Jesus Christ, Rogers, what were you doing with it?”

Steve laughed, and from the corner of Tony’s eye he could see Loki’s gaze shoot to him, finally regarding the fact that he was there. “It was a book about human anatomy,” Steve replied, shifting his fingers on his mug. “I was trying to learn how to draw people properly. Kind of like Da Vinci.”

“I see,” Tony replied, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, and **damn** if that wasn’t the best hot chocolate he had actually ever had. He stared at his cup as if it had just pulled him close and kissed him.

“Pardon me,” the sultry figure standing next to the table said, and Tony felt a sudden shock run through him that made him want to bury his face in his cup again. Nevertheless, he looked up from his mug and into the slightly inquisitive face, the delicately arched eyebrows pinched in a pensive way. “I did not wish to be rude, and so I apologize for not regarding you sooner. We’ve never met before, have we?” Tony shook his head, because that was all he could do, and Loki smiled, reaching a slender hand forward toward him. “I am Loki Laufeyson.”

Tony gulped, setting down his cup. He held out his hand and grasped Loki’s, shaking it almost mechanically. He couldn’t function with those eyes regarding him. It felt like Loki was doing something brilliantly archaic, like reading runes off his bones or something. It was too intense. Tony didn’t know how to carry himself. “Tony Stark.”

“He goes to school with me,” Steve said, looking to Tony again and smiling his sweetheart smile.

Loki looked to Steve, still clasping onto Tony’s hand. His grip was firm, but his hand was enticingly warm, and it was apparent from the barest traces of flour under his nails and the faintest smears on his forearm that he was working with his baked goods before he brought them their beverages. “Why haven’t you brought him here before, Steven? I would have felt more reassured that you had friends if you actually brought more of them here.”

To Tony, the statement seemed like a barb against Steve’s shyness, but Steve seemed to know him better. He raised his hands in a placating manner, closing his eyes. “Actually, I’ve brought Bucky here before, so of course I have friends. You know that, Loki. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“The need may not be there, Steven, but rest assured, I most certainly do.” He released Tony’s hand absently, fixing Steve with a concerned look and resting his weight by pressing his palm to the tabletop, resting his other hand on his hip. Tony’s gaze instantly fixated on his forearm, which was lithe, and yet the sinew appeared under the strain of his weight. If there was ever a moment where Tony wished he had actually developed that contact lens that doubled as a camcorder, now would be the time.

Their babble became background noise as Tony began to wonder precisely how he could commit this moment to memory. Maybe he could just fixate on his arm for a long enough time until he could see it every time he closed his eyes? No, that would be a little too difficult. He was good at numbers and designs, but not actual visuals. What if he just sneakily pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture? No, Steve could clearly see him doing that from across the table. Tony cursed his innate ability to draw actual people, because then he could write it off as just jotting down some numbers when, in actuality, he could easily just hide the sketchbook under the table and doodle away. But he was pretty certain that if he even attempted to draw Loki’s beautiful arm, it would turn out looking like some lopsided tree or something. It wouldn’t even do him justice. Why did these things have to be so inconveniently hard?

...Wait, why was he even geeking out about this guy’s arm, anyway?

“I’m game, yeah. What about you, Tony?”

Tony blinked twice, snapped out of his musings by the direction mention of his name. He glanced at Steve, then up at Loki, who was grinning like he knew something Tony didn’t, and then back at Steve, because he didn’t know what was going on. “Hmm?” he asked, hoping they wouldn’t ask about his floating away.

Steve was smiling in a conspiratorial way, too, and Tony could smell danger on the air. “Loki said he was working on a new recipe, some chocolate chip cheesecake cups, and he was wondering if we’d like to try a few.”

“The most recent batch is almost done cooling, so you wouldn’t even have to wait, Tony,” Loki said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Would you like to try some?”

“Of course,” Tony said instantly, attempting to regain some of his familiar bravado. “Hit me with whatever you want. I’m a good beta tester.”

“Thank you very much,” Loki said, actually looking quite delighted with their willingness to participate. “I’ll be right out with the first batch soon. They’re little, so you don’t even have to try that much in order to taste it.” Sending one last grateful smile at both Tony and Steve, he retreated back into the kitchen, Tony watching his lithe form stride across the room and disappear behind the swinging door.

Tony didn’t waste any time putting his head in his hands and pressing his forehead to the table. Steve’s voice instantly broke into his thoughts, wavering with concern. “Tony? You okay?” he asked, not a hint of teasing to be found in the voice. Tony was too fed up with today.

“I am so pissed off at you right now,” Tony replied, his voice muffled by the table.

He could imagine Steve’s expression morphed into one of slight confusion and hurt, but nevertheless the amiable blonde continued surging forward, determined to get to the bottom of Tony’s strange behavior.  “Why are you angry? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something?”

Tony raised his head, taking a deep breath, and, finding himself able to think clearer, allowed himself a sigh. “No, you didn’t do anything,” he replied, pinching his nose and giving another sigh. “I’m just having a crisis. I’ve been having one since I stepped through the door.”

Steve pinched his brows together, looking at the table and trying to piece together what could be bothering him. After a moment, he looked up at Tony again and asked, “What’s on your mind? Can I do anything to help?”

Tony shook his head, still pinching his nose. “No, you can’t do anything. Sorry,” he added as an afterthought, giving Steve a quick glance to show his earnestness before closing his eyes again. He didn’t know precisely how to bring up what he was thinking, but then, he thought, Steve was basically someone who didn’t dance around the facts, and that’s the way Tony ought to treat him. He didn’t need to be babied. And he really wanted to help. Maybe a second mind to bounce ideas off of would help.

In the end, he made his choice. Straightening his shoulders, he opened his eyes and lowered his hand. “I’m just having an epiphany about my sexuality, is all.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, but he wasn’t an idiot. He looked quickly at the door to the kitchen before looking back at Tony, leaning forward and whispering, “really?” At Tony’s nod, he asked, “Is it because of Loki?”

Tony shook his head. Then, he looked up and shrugged. “Well, he’s part of it,” he said, remembering clearly that this whole thing actually started with Thor. “The other half is probably trying to help Loki in the kitchen with something.”

Steve’s eyebrows grew higher, if that was at all possible. To Tony’s surprise, though, he wasn’t at all upset. He thought for sure that Steve would have pretty conservative thoughts about how people should be, considering how much of a chivalrous gentleman he was ninety percent of the time. He seemed to be taking this in stride, though, as if he was unbothered by finding out one of his friends was possibly homosexual. He seemed less disturbed than Tony was, certainly, which was good. It was Tony’s job to be horrified and freaked out about this.

“If I had known that something like this would have happened, I wouldn’t have brought you here,” Steve replied, sounding apologetic. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Do you want to leave?” And he really seemed willing to leave with Tony. He’d probably walk them around the city until they found a tree to camp under until time passed and Howard could finally get Tony.

Tony didn’t want that, though, because that would just leave him with Steve, and he couldn’t trust himself right now. The thought of Steve being willing to give up the warmth of the café to make him comfortable would make him look at Steve like he was something different, too. And suddenly he was doing just that without his own volition, his clear blue eyes worried for him and his slight frown not one of disapproval, but of protective concern. He suddenly realized how despite being slightly bigger than it should be the shirt he was wearing grasped his arms in an appealing manner, giving a generous view of his not-too-meager arms. He slammed his head on the table again.

“Tony?” Steve asked, and Tony couldn’t handle it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, picking up his head and glancing at it. He checked the time. 3:41, it read, and he probably only had to wait half an hour for Howard. He could just run off somewhere and be content and happy and not have to think about Thor’s guileless smile or Loki’s sharp eyes or even Steve’s pure-heartedness.

“Oh, Howard just texted me,” Tony lied, pulling up his bag and gazing intently at his phone, ignoring the swish of the kitchen door. “He says he wants to meet me back at the school. He’s ready to take me home.”

“Oh,” Steve said, already moving for his things. “Do you want me to walk you?”

“No need, Rogers,” Tony replied, pretending to send a quick text and sliding the phone back into his pocket. Loki approached their table, with Thor not too far behind, toting what appeared to be milk and whipped cream, presumably for their hot chocolates. Tony needed to leave before this turned into a bad situation. “Enjoy the pastries and hot chocolate and shit. You don’t need to get wet on my behalf.”

“But Tony,” Steve said, and Tony looked at him, knowing just from one look at Steve’s face that he knew exactly why Tony was leaving but also knowing he was unwilling to call him out with Loki and Thor around. Small blessings.

“Shaddap, Captain,” Tony said, pulling out his nickname in an attempt to diffuse the tension. He slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be out, then,” he said, turning and attempting to move past Loki. He accidentally bumped into Thor, which elicited a strained ‘sorry’ from him, and he hurried out the door, the bell dinging loudly as he yanked the door closed.

Loki stood with his tray of chocolate chip cheesecake cups, gazing at the door with a very confused expression, as did Thor. “Is he alright?” Loki asked, turning back to Steve. “He seemed quite distressed.”

Steve mirrored Tony’s earlier expression, pinching his nose and giving a sigh. “He’ll be okay, I think,” Steve replied, putting his hand down and twiddling his thumbs a bit, nervously glancing at the door.

“He left his coat,” Thor said rather dejectedly, setting down the goodies for Steve and picking up Tony’s forgotten hot chocolate. “Should I go after him to return it?”

“I’ll bring it to school tomorrow,” Steve replied, sipping his hot chocolate and smiling at the two.

Loki set down a few of his pastries, and Steve took a moment to admire them. They were little cupcake-shaped cheesecakes with chocolate chip cookie crusts and a few bits of chocolate chip floating in the cheese. They looked positively delicious. He thanked Loki and bit into one. Loki nodded, but looked back at the door absently, still balancing the tray on his hand. The other hand went once again to his hip.

“It’s a shame he had to leave so soon,” Loki said, clearly forlorn about losing his guest. “He seemed awfully keen.”

Steve raised a brow as he finished the pastry, going for another. “Keen?” he asked. “I don’t think you’re being specific enough.”

Loki looked back at him, an earnest expression on his face. “Well, he seemed willing to try the cheesecakes, and he was good company to you. I do like seeing you with others, Steven.” Steve nodded, understanding. Then, Loki’s cheeks tinted slightly as he added, looking back to the door again, “and he was kind of good looking as well, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, good!” Thor said, letting out a huge breath beforehand. Without any warning he drank most of Tony’s hot chocolate, grinning afterward. “I am glad I was not the only one who thought so.”

Steve laughed, finishing another cheesecake. “This whole place is a conspiracy,” he said, amused. “By the way, Loki, these are absolutely delicious.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://exacteyewriting.tumblr.com)


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